The Ballet Studio
by Always a Bookworm
Summary: "Hi. I'm Anzu Mazaki. I'm a ballet dancer in dire need of a pianist to replace this terrible CD." "Hi. I'm Yuugi Motou. I'm a superhero pianist sent to save you from the CD." Sometimes love can be a lot more complex and painful than it should be. YYxAxY


Hello, lovely people! :) The YGO Fanfiction contest has started again, and this is my entry for the awesome first pairing of **Spiritshipping; Yami Yuugi x Anzu Mazaki x Yuugi Motou. **Yep, loving the threesomes! ;D

As for this... Well, I start the contest as I mean to go on! With a stupidly long oneshot that can't really make up it's mind as to what genre it is. (Seriously. I'm confused! xD!) That said, I'm quite proud of this, I really indulged myself when writing and had a whole load of fun with it! So, I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Use of swear words, and (very) mild violence.

Pairing(s): Spiritshipping, Polarshipping (What? No yaoi? What is this blasphemy?)

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of the ballet schools/ music pieces mentioned.

Have fun reading! :D**

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* * *

_One, two, three petit jetés, arms opening to second, relevé in fifth, arms to third arabesque with a devloppe derriere, turn_, _pas de bourée, finish, repeat…_

"No, no, NO," she cursed herself in frustration. "All wrong, it's all wrong…"

Anzu Mazaki continued to mutter to herself as she walked it all through again, muttering the words like a mantra in her head: _One, two, three petit jetés…_

The ballet studio was deserted; it was only her and her reflection in the gilded mirror that covered the front wall. A barre ran along two sides of the room, old and cracked in some places, and in others pale where the dark varnish had rubbed off from being clutched by one too many sweaty hand. And at the back stood the piano, a stocky upright that would never produce beautiful symphonies, but was enough to bash out a couple of rounds of pliés every day.

It wasn't the best, by any manner of means. The school ran on low funds, and there was only one teacher residing over the entire operation- teaching four year olds up to adults, waiting in hope for that one special student who would make it all worthwhile.

Anzu was supposed to be that student.

Anzu _wanted_ to be that student.

Anzu was going to be a star, the children whispered in the cloakroom as they wiggled their feet into their pink satin shoes. Anzu was going to go to _New York_, and _London_, and_ St Petersburg_, and all of those other legendary ballet schools whose names were murmured with wide-eyed awe by the students.

Anzu was going to be a _prima ballerina_.

(Sometimes Anzu really hated the fact that they all thought she was infallible. It made her mistakes that much more embarrassing.)

"Shit!" she snapped, as she failed once again to perfect the turn. "Damn this whole routine!"

Her furious curses seemed to echo round the room, and she found a sort of bitter satisfaction as she stared down at her feet and yelled: "God, why are you so bloody useless!"

"Sorry," a timid voice came from behind her. "I didn't mean to be late. It's just there was terrible traffic…"

Anzu whipped her head around, a red blush already creeping up her neck. In the doorway there stood a man dressed in a clumpy sweater rolled up to the elbows and baggy jeans, black framed glasses perched on his nose, and what looked like an entire library's worth of sheet music clutched tightly to his chest. His oddly coloured hair stuck up wildly in all directions, as if he hadn't really ever bothered to tame it, and he was staring at Anzu with huge purple (purple? They had to be coloured contacts, Anzu reasoned vaguely) eyes with a mix of awe, curiosity, and terror.

He gestured helplessly with his hands, "I'm not usually this useless, I promise…"

Anzu fervently shook her head. "No, no, I wasn't talking to you- I was talking to my… my, um… my feet. I didn't even realise you were there."

The man fidgeted, and replied "Oh, I should have knocked- I'm sorry." He definitely had the air of someone who was used to apologising all the time.

Anzu blushed even more as she realised what she had just said. "I'm not crazy!" she assured him, hurriedly (his terrified expression had lessened slightly, only to be replaced with pure bewilderment) "It's just that I sometimes get really angry when I can't do a step, and I…" she tailed off, realising that she should just stop talking _right now_ before she made even more of a fool of herself.

But instead of running as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the 'crazy girl' (as Anzu was miserably sure he had now dubbed her so in his mind) he merely cracked a shy smile. "You take it out on your feet. I know the feeling."

Anzu looked at him in surprise. "You're a dancer?" she asked doubtfully, eyeing his fairly short stature and skinny arms.

He blushed again, and shook his head rapidly with a nervous chuckle. "No! No, I'm a pianist. I get really angry with my hands sometimes, when they don't do what I tell them to." He smiled again, as if embarassed.

Anzu smiled back, before fully processing what was going on. "Um, sorry, but why are you here?"

The man shifted the papers in his hands worriedly. "Didn't Miss Aneshka tell you? I'm the new pianist- I'm supposed to accompany you."

Anzu stared at him, mentally berating her forgetful Russian teacher, who was indisputable when you wanted to know how to achieve a passé pirouette, but utterly useless when it came to anything concerning the real world. Not knowing what to do for a moment in this truly bizarre situation, she eventually broke into a smile and stepped forward with her hand stretched out.

"Look, let's just forget the whole thing of me swearing and yelling, and you being all confused- all that and let's start again. Hi, I'm Anzu Mazaki. I'm a ballet dancer in dire need of a pianist instead of this appalling CD." She waved at the ancient speaker in the corner, which was now churning out a tinny rendition of 'The Dance of the Cygnets' from Swan Lake.

The man nodded, and shuffled his music so that he could eventually shake Anzu's hand. "Hi. I'm Yuugi Motou. I'm a superhero pianist come to rescue you from said appalling CD."

Anzu, although surprised at this sudden cheeky wit the seemingly shy boy was displaying, laughed and helped him carry his music over to the piano.

"It's not in best shape," she said apologetically, but Yuugi didn't seem to hear her; he was running his hands over the black and white ivory keys with almost loving care.

"That's just because no one paid the old girl any attention," he murmured, almost to himself. "But let's see what we can get of you, eh?" Turning back to Anzu he flashed her a proper smile, finally at ease, and said, "Well? Shall we dance?"

With a smile she curtseyed to him, before twirling off to shut down the speakers and took her position in the centre of the room.

As she began her routine, she found it hard not to concentrate on the _music,_ the real, true, beautiful _music_ that this strange man was coaxing out of the decrepit old piano. The chords floated through the air, underlying the gentle harmonies and melodies.

And Anzu floated with them.

_One, two, three petit jetés, arms opening to second, relevé in fifth, arms to third arabesque with a devloppe derriere, turn_, _pas de bourée, finish, repeat…_

She would later think that that was, in some ways, the best performance she ever gave.

* * *

"…I mean, he's amazing!" Anzu said enthusiastically, taking a brief sip of her coffee. She was sitting in a small café near to her tiny apartment, chatting to her roommate. "He just has so much talent, I don't know what he's doing wasting away in my old ballet school."

Mai rolled her eyes and sipped at her own drink. "Yes, I know- he's absolutely outstanding, his talent is unmatchable, he makes the most beautiful music you've ever heard, you're completely in love with him, blah blah blah."

Anzu reached over and slapped her friend's hand. "I am _not_ in love with him!" she said, hotly. "I only met the guy yesterday."

Mai smirked. "And you've just spent the last twenty minutes telling me about him. I think someone has a crush!" she teased, poking Anzu with her plastic spoon.

"Oh, shut up," Anzu grumbled, blushing. "You're such a pain."

Mai grinned smugly, and tapped her mug with manicured nails. "Look, honey, you like him. Why not, he sounds cute! Why don't you ask him on a date, get to know him a bit better?"

Anzu stared determinedly down at the milky swirl in the centre of her coffee, before whispering, "You know perfectly well why."

Mai's fingers clenched around her cup for a split second before she let out a deep sigh of irritation. She leant over the table and grabbed Anzu's cheeks, forcing the girl to look up. "Now you listen to me," she said, fiercely. "It's been two years. Move on with your life."

Anzu jerked away from her friend's grip, and stood up, throwing a couple of coins on the table. "I have to get to rehearsals," she mumbled, shrugging on her coat.

Mai looked up at her with a half angry, half resigned expression. "Anzu, love, he's not coming back."

Anzu turned on her heel and walked out of the café without so much as a wave goodbye. Mai sighed, and stirred her drink thoughtfully.

"Trouble?" came the familiar voice of the waiter. Jou dusted off his apron, and leant over to give his girlfriend a surreptitious kiss before pouring her some more coffee.

Mai nodded vaguely. "Boy trouble."

Jou groaned. "Please tell me it's not _that_ boy. Again."

"Can you think of a time when it hasn't been _that_ boy when Anzu is concerned?" Mai said, kicking the table leg in frustration. "Two years. Two whole years- who can't get over a guy in two years?"

Jou rubbed a reassuring hand over Mai's shoulder. "There's nothing you can do," he said, quietly.

Mai looked at him. "I know that. I just hate being so useless."

Jou raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think you're useless!"

Mai stood up, with a smirk. "Of course you don't sweetie," she said, giving him a brief kiss. "You're even more useless than I am."

Jou rolled his eyes and watched her walk out of the café with a broad grin on his face.

* * *

Anzu found herself practising her routine a lot more often than strictly necessary. She would spend hours going over every tiny detail- determined to perfect the steps, throwing herself into the dance heart and soul.

And Yuugi played the same music, over and over again, patient as always. He was apparently happy to spend his entire time in a tiny ballet studio, playing for an obsessive amateur, and Anzu once, jokingly, asked him why.

"I love to watch you dance," he replied simply, avoiding her stare awkwardly. "You're just so passionate about it. It's really beautiful."

Anzu ducked her head, as she pretended to take a gulp of water from her bottle just so that he wouldn't see her blush.

"Thank you," she replied, quietly. "I'm glad."

There was an embarrassed silence. "So, this routine is for a recital?" Yuugi asked, clearly uncomfortable.

Anzu nodded, relieved at the change of topic. "Yes. The annual ballet show- it would just be another performance, but apparently there's going to be talent scouts from both the New York ballet and the English National Ballet there! It's terrifying, but I can't wait. This could be my big chance!" she said, eyes lighting up with excitement.

Yuugi smiled shyly. "They're going to be really impressed with you, Anzu. You're going to take them by storm."

"Well. I can always dream."

"With all this extra practice you've put in, I'm sure you can't fail!"

Blushing, she pushed herself away from the piano and said, "From the top?"

As Yuugi obediently began to play the opening chords, Anzu tried not to think about the nagging voice in the back of her mind which insisted that the reason for so many extra rehearsals was so that she could be near the talented (kind, passionate, _gorgeous_) new accompanist.

Anzu glanced over at Yuugi, who looked up for a second and met her gaze. She smiled at him, and felt something flicker in her stomach when he smiled back.

* * *

Yuugi entered his darkened apartment, and immediately began to cough at the amount of cigarette smoke that was hanging in the stale air.

"Ryou? Ryou, if your good-for-nothing brother is here again, then tell him to please open the damn window if he wants to chain smoke! I can barely breathe in here!"

He stumbled through the unusually untidy apartment, tripping over various objects as he went, before slamming into the opposite wall, ripping open the curtains and shoving open the window.

Sunlight streamed into the room, and Yuugi took several deep breaths of fresh air before turning to study his living room, critically. The light showed that the room was a mess; empty coffee cups scattered on various surfaces, crumpled clothes strewn over the furniture, books and CDs lying out of place- and there was sheet music everywhere. If Yuugi hadn't known better, he'd say there'd been a break in. Luckily, he and his roommate Ryou (an aspiring writer), both being completely broke, didn't own anything worth stealing.

That was when he suddenly spotted a figure lounging in an armchair, fingering a cigarette and staring straight at him.

Yuugi didn't even jump. "I should have known it would be you," he said, bluntly. "Always expect the worst, that's my motto."

The man tilted his head, and pouted mockingly. "Oh, surely I'm better than Bakura the chain smoker?"

Yuugi snorted before bending over to start gathering up the mess. "It seems you've picked up his nasty habit. Not just the smoking, the rudeness too."

The man grunted apologetically before shaking the pack of cigarettes in Yuugi's direction. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You want one?"

Yuugi brushed him away, angrily. "You know what I mean! How can you just break in here, without even asking, or calling!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "If I'd called you would have refused me," he pointed out. "Anyway, I didn't break in. Ryou let me in- he seemed a little distracted, he just collected the post that was on the mat and went straight back upstairs. Didn't even say hello! There must be something wrong with him, he's normally such a neat freak, and this place," he wrinkled his nose, distastefully, "is a dump."

"He's in the middle of an inspiration streak, nothing can tempt him away from his computer until it's over. I'm amazed that he even got up to let you in at all," Yuugi answered, absently.

"Well, I did knock for over an hour beforehand," the man smirked. "So, aren't you going to offer me anything to drink?"

Yuugi straightened up with a growl of exasperation. His 'guest' hadn't changed since the last time they'd met- still as different to Yuugi as he could possibly be. He was still dressed in leather, heavily studded belts, about a tons worth of chunky jewellery, and had black kohl around his eyes. His hair was gelled up into multi-coloured spikes, as opposed to Yuugi who just let his flop into an unruly mess. Unlike Yuugi, whose unusual purple eyes were 100% natural, he used coloured contacts so that his eyes were a deep blood red. (The last time they'd met they had been forest green, the time before that a rich blue. Yuugi was used to the changes.) And the smirk hadn't changed. That proud, confident, _arrogant as hell_ smirk was still painted across his face, apparently a permanent fixture.

"I like the new eyes," he said, pushing past the chair. "They're pretty messed up. Just like you."

Yami Motou stood up with a cat like stretch and grinned slowly. "It's good to see you too, little brother."

* * *

"So what are you even doing here?" Yuugi asked, resignedly, as he handed Yami a bottle of beer.

Yami shrugged. "I've been travelling constantly for the past two years. At some point every city begins to look the same." He raised his bottle and winked. "Besides, there's no place like home."

"This isn't your home," Yuugi grumbled. "This is mine."

Yami made a dramatic gesture with his hands. "We're family, dear brother. Surely that means what's yours is mine?"

Yuugi groaned. "Technically, _dear brother_, we're not. And you know that perfectly well."

This was true; Yuugi and Yami Motou were not actually brothers. Biologically speaking, they were so distantly related it was hard to trace. In fact, it was a genetic oddity that the two had such similar features, considering how far apart they were on the Motou family tree. However, the two had been raised together when Yuugi's grandfather decided to take in the little orphan second-cousin-three-times-removed of his sister, and to raise him with his own grandson.

Yami moved in when he was five, and Yuugi was three. They considered each other brothers from that day forward, for better and for worse.

(Yuugi was usually of the opinion that it was for worse.)

"How's the piano playing?" Yami asked, as adept at changing the topic of conversation as he was at changing his eye colour.

Yuugi made a sceptical noise. "Like you care."

"No, I really do," Yami assured him, and made an attempt at looking sincere.

Yuugi rolled his eyes. "Well, to save up some money I've got this summer job. I'm the pianist for a ballet school."

Yami snorted, derisively as he took a swig of his drink. "Ballet school? Come on, Yuugi, you're better than that."

Yuugi punched him on the arm. "Just because you make buckets of money a day doing whatever the hell you do, that doesn't mean the rest of us are rolling in it as much as you are," he said, sourly. "I really need this job. And besides," he almost blushed, thinking of the beautiful ballet dancer that he played for every day, "it's not _all_ bad."

Yami eyed him. "There's a girl," he said slowly. "There is, there's a girl!"

"There isn't!"

"Oh, there really is."

"I'm telling you, Yami-"

"And I'm telling you- there's a girl involved! Well, what's she like?"

Yuugi paused, staring into the bottom of his drink. "She's… she's really pretty," he finished, helplessly.

Yami grabbed his hand. "That's pathetic! I want details- what does she look like, how did you meet, have you slept with her yet- OW!"

Yuugi had punched him on the arm again, considerably harder. "Don't be so crude," he said, flushing.

"Well at least give me her name."

Yuugi sighed. "She's this ballet dancer, and she's really good! I mean, I'm not just saying that because I think she's gorgeous, but she's really, truly good. I think she's going to be really successful. Anyway, she's a lovely person, and I enjoy being around her. She has brown hair, and amazing blue eyes. That enough details for you?" he finished, now completely red.

Yami smirked. "I still want the name."

Yuugi looked at his brother with an unreadable expression for a couple of long moments. "Anzu Mazaki. I'm falling in love with Anzu Mazaki."

The smirk slid off Yami's face like butter. "Anzu Mazaki?" he asked, making his face blank.

"Yes," Yuugi nodded, holding his brother's gaze unwaveringly.

Yami swallowed and for a second something flitted across his face. "Does she… Does she know?"

"What, that I like her or about… About you?"

Yami just looked at him.

"The answer to both questions is no," Yuugi murmured. "I would never tell her, Yami. I hate your guts, but… But I love you too much to do that."

Yami didn't say anything, just pulled Yuugi into a hug. "Thank you," he murmured against the smaller boy's hair. "Thank you."

Yuugi closed his eyes, hugged back, and hoped that Yami didn't hear him when he whispered: "I'm glad you're home."

* * *

Anzu was slipping into her ballet shoes in the cloakroom when she heard the music drifting through the slightly open door; mournful and quiet, heavy chords and a slow melody over the top. Anzu paused for just a second to breathe in and close her eyes, to listen to the beautiful harmony of notes, a soothing yet incredibly grief-stricken lullaby. Peering almost nervously round the door, she saw Yuugi sitting at the piano completely absorbed in the piece he was playing, not even looking at the pages of sheet music in front of him- he clearly adored this piece, and had memorised it.

Not wanting to stop the music, Anzu padded softly over to him and stood as silently as she could behind him until the last chords echoed around the room, and Yuugi breathed out and drew his hands away from the keys, his face completely at peace.

"That was beautiful," Anzu said, softly.

Yuugi jumped and whipped his head around, visibly relaxing when he saw her. "Oh, it's you. Thank you, I'm glad you liked it."

Anzu walked closer so that she was leaning over his shoulder, examining the sheet music. "I'm no expert on classical music- only the ballets. What was it?"

"Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'," Yuugi replied, fingering the corner of the first page almost lovingly. "The First Movement. It's my favourite."

Anzu nodded hesitantly. "Your favourite?"

Yuugi looked at her, eyes sparkling. "You're surprised?"

Anzu shrugged and perched herself next to him on the piano stool. "No, it's just that this piece is so… sad. I always imagined you loving happy music."

Yuugi grinned. "Like this?" he asked, bashing out the first few bars of 'The Entertainer'.

Anzu laughed. "Something like that. I don't know, it just sounds very unhappy. I didn't expect that of you."

Yuugi glanced away for a second. "Well, sometimes sad things happen to happy people," he said, seriously. "And sometimes happy people just need to play sad music."

Anzu watched his face, completely confused. His eyes had suddenly lost their glimmer, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. "What happened to you to make you need to play sad music?" she asked, instinctively slipping her hand into his for comfort. "You don't have to tell me!" she added, quickly. "It's just that sometimes it helps to talk about it."

Yuugi seemed about to say something, but then shook his head with a confused expression. "Nothing… Nothing happened. But I sometimes get the feeling I've forgotten something, something really important. And then I feel painfully sad for a moment before it goes away, and I'm left just wanting to play sad music for hours." He shot her a rapid look. "You probably think I'm crazy."

Anzu squeezed his hand. "No. I don't think that. However," she grinned teasingly, reaching for a pen, "I know the number of this _great_ therapist-"

Yuugi elbowed her. "Ha ha ha," he said, sarcastically. Anzu giggled and elbowed him back. Before they knew it they were childishly mock-fighting, and had both toppled off the piano stool onto the polished wooden floor.

Anzu was about to laugh and begin to get up, before she turned her head slightly and found herself staring straight into Yuugi's eyes. They were bright once more, but she could sense nervousness in them. Without really thinking about it, she leaned forward and pressed their lips together for a moment.

He looked at her in shock, and she thought he was going to yell or run or back hurriedly away or- and then they were kissing again, and his hands were in her hair and her arms were around his waist, and it was _beautiful_ and strangely familiar and _burning_ all at once…

Music was shaken from the piano in single sheets and fell like dry autumn leaves around the pair as they kissed on the ballet studio floor.

* * *

The weeks leading up to Anzu's big recital were fraught and packed with rehearsals, fitness training, hours of listening to the music over and over to learn it inside out, costume fittings and panic attacks. Anzu thought wryly, as she felt herself becoming even more stressed as her teacher jabbered away in rapid Russian on the phone to the stage manager, that if everyone wasn't making such a huge deal out of it that she would be fine and relaxed. But it seemed all that anyone could talk about, and as the days went on Anzu began to feel like she was cracking under the pressure.

At least, she would have if she hadn't had the one oasis of calm in this desert of stress, sweat and tears; Yuugi. She spent as much time as she could with him, and his reassuring gaze in her rehearsals would steady her nerves when she felt like she just could not dance another step.

And suddenly it was the day before the performance.

Tickets had been sold.

The adverts were up in shops and in the newspaper.

Anzu's parents were preparing to make the trip to the other side of the country to see their beloved daughter dance.

And Anzu was nowhere to be found.

Miss Aneshka rang up Yuugi in a panic, desperate to know where her 'little star' was on the last day before the show; why wasn't she in rehearsal, was she with him, what was going on? Yuugi answered as calmly as he could, ignoring the butterflies that stirred in his stomach, that he didn't know where she was but would do his best to find her.

"…Don't worry, everything's going to be fine," he finished evenly, before clicking the phone down before she could reply.

"Something wrong?" Yami asked, leaning against the doorframe curiously.

Yuugi groaned and rubbed at his eyes with his hand. "Anzu. She's gone off somewhere and her teacher's having a hissy fit."

Yami shrugged. "Not your fault. There's nothing you can do."

Yuugi smiled tightly. "Yeah, but that doesn't stop her blaming it all on me. I'm the nearest person that she can reach by phone." He sighed, and reached for his mobile. "I'll have to try and get hold of her."

Yami nodded vaguely, and turned on his heel. "Tell Anzu I said hi, will you?" he remarked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.

Yuugi looked up but didn't say anything.

"And… good luck for her performance," Yami added, quietly.

"You're not going to go?" Yuugi blurted out, shocked.

Yami shook his head, still not facing Yuugi. "I… I don't think I can, Yuugi."

There was a pause, and then Yuugi bent his head over his phone and whispered, "I'll tell her. She'll be really happy."

There was no reply, and when Yuugi looked up again Yami was gone.

* * *

Yuugi ran into Mai Kujaku on the corner of Anzu's street; she looked equally stressed with her blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and her heavy make up still not concealing her worried expression.

"You managed to find her?" Yuugi asked, without much hope.

Mai shook her head. "I looked everywhere, the coffee shop, the park, her apartment, my house, I asked nearly everyone she knows, and I even called up her parents! She's just vanished. You have any luck?"

"No, nothing," Yuugi sighed, miserably. Although he had only met Mai a few weeks ago (he could still remember the gleam in her eye when she had shaken his hand and told him that Anzu had not stopped talking about him since he'd met her) he already trusted that she cared for Anzu as much as he did, and she was the first person he'd called when he had started the hunt.

Mai screwed up her face in frustration. "There must be some place she would go, maybe somewhere to relax, or some place that she needs to see before a performance, like a lucky charm-" she abruptly froze.

Yuugi eyed her. "What?" he asked, slowly.

Mai turned to him, her face resigned. "I know where she is."

Then she turned away, only betraying the fact that she was crying when her voice cracked as she muttered, "That stupid bitch."

* * *

"Mai said I'd find you here."

Anzu didn't even look around, but smiled sadly. "And then I guess she started crying and said I was a stupid bitch, huh?"

Yuugi bowed his head, but didn't reply. He was standing in the middle of a cemetery, surrounded by white headstones, bunches of both wilting and fresh flowers, and an almost stifling silence. There wasn't even any birdsong, and the traffic noise was barely a hum in the distance. Anzu was cross-legged on the ground, pulling up grass with nervous fingers and staring at the engraved stone in front of her.

"She wants me to forget him. She wants me to move on. But I can't- he was my first love, you know," Anzu started, and Yuugi knelt behind her offering comfort without words. "We were 15 when we started dating, and we were together for three years." She ducked her head with a smile at some memory. "We always joked that we'd be together forever, that someday we'd get married."

"What happened?" Yuugi asked, softly.

Anzu was silent for a long moment, before murmuring as if she were in a dream: "It was an accident. We were… we were going to go travelling, see the world. And the day before we left he was on the way to the travel agent to confirm our tickets, when some maniac on a bike came round the corner too fast and- and-"

Yuugi slipped round to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Anzu's eyes were clouded with grief and she was trembling slightly, but the words poured out of her mouth as if she'd been bottling them up for years.

"He was in a coma for four days- that was the worst part. It wasn't a quick death, he was just lying there like a ghost and we all had to live his death over and over again, every second of those days," she breathed slowly. "That was the worst time of my life. And then his funeral… I had to organise it; I was the only one who could deal with it at the time. His parents were dead, his grandfather was too old, and his brother went into a mental breakdown as soon as he heard. He didn't even come to the funeral." She was whispering by this point. "I never met him. I never met my future brother-in-law."

She suddenly turned and buried her face in Yuugi's shoulder and started to cry in earnest. "I miss him so much," she sobbed, weakly. "Every day… For two years I visited his grave every day and never even looked at another man. And then you come along, and you're so sweet and kind and you treated me like I was _worth_ something…"

"You _are_," Yuugi muttered, fiercely, into her hair. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Anzu continued to weep as he held her even tighter, and the silence around them seemed to echo with music that he just couldn't hear.

* * *

Yuugi brought her back to his apartment, pushing the door open with an apology: "Sorry about the mess. Ryou's busy, and my brother's staying so…" he gestured vaguely at the untidy front room. Anzu made a half laugh, half sob noise and sank into an armchair, while Yuugi went into the kitchen to fix her a drink.

Only a few minutes had gone by until Mai burst in through the door, heading straight for her friend whom she enveloped in a tight hug. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" she scolded. "I was so worried!"

Anzu attempted a watery smile before accepting the steaming tea that Yuugi held out to her.

"Thanks for calling me," Mai said to Yuugi, who nodded and sat down on the edge of the sofa. "So she was there?" Mai continued, spitting out the word 'there' as if it was the dirtiest word imaginable.

Anzu set her cup down with quiet fury burning in her eyes. "Look, Mai," she said, through clenched teeth. "I know you're just looking out for me, but there's nothing wrong with me mourning my boyfriend's death!"

"You need to move past this!" Mai snapped back. "It's not healthy, not two years on. Yami wouldn't have wanted this-"

"Yami?" Yuugi frowned. "That's weird. I thought my brother was the only one with such an unusual name."

Ignoring him the girls continued their argument, raising their voices despite Yuugi's pleas for calm until a rather stressed looking individual appeared in the doorway.

"Would you all _please_ shut the hell up?" he yelled, his soft British accent making itself heard over the two girls.

They blinked in surprise and turned to him. "Thank you," Ryou breathed, passing a hand over his face. "Some of us are trying to work."

"You haven't changed, Ry," Mai remarked, dryly, getting up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Still a workaholic?"

Yuugi started, looking between the two of them. "You two know each other?"

"Know each other? Honey, we used to be roommates. Two years ago, back when Ryou was best friends with…"

She trailed off, shooting Anzu a nervous look, and Yuugi suddenly put two and two together. "With Yami, when he was alive?" he finished, gently.

Ryou bit back a sharp gasp, and Mai bowed her head. Anzu just nodded, biting her lip and crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

Yuugi frowned. "Hang on… Ryou, you said you used to be my brother's best friend- that's why you're letting me stay here, isn't it? Because you were so close with _my _Yami."

Ryou was giving Yuugi a rather alarmed look and had moved closer so that his hand was resting against Yuugi's arm. "Yuugi, I was best friends with your brother. That's the Yami we're talking about, the one who dated Anzu, you know that… Right?"

Yuugi ignored Anzu sudden moan of realisation and Mai's shocked intake of breath.

"What are you talking about?" Yuugi said, his voice rising in pitch as his heart suddenly began to pound quicker. "I know my brother dated Anzu and that it ended badly, and you two were friends- but he's not this guy that died! You've got it all wrong."

"_I sometimes get the feeling I've forgotten something, something really important"_

Ryou looked really scared now. "Yuugi, what do you mean? Your brother, he's d-"

Yuugi interrupted him with: "But he's staying here, right now! You let him in two weeks ago, when you were writing- he said he knocked for an hour, but he's been staying since then. Honestly Ryou, you must know when someone's staying in your own house!" he laughed, uneasily.

Ryou shook his head, bewildered. "The only time I opened the door was to fetch the post."

"_Ryou let me in- he seemed a little distracted, he just collected the post that was on the mat and went straight back upstairs. Didn't even say hello! There must be something wrong with him…"_

Yuugi felt as if memories, thoughts, half remembered dreams were suddenly crashing in on his mind, crowding him, pressing on from all sides, obscuring his vision.

"Yuugi, your brother hasn't been around for the last two years, surely you know-"

"But… but he's been travelling," he insisted, fearfully. "He's just been away, that's all."

"_I've been travelling constantly for the past two years. At some point every city begins to look the same"_

"_We were going to go travelling, see the world. And the day before we left he was on the way to the travel agent to confirm our tickets"_

"Yuugi, Yuugi, are you alright?"

Coloured images filled his sight, long forgotten voices echoed in his ear as he toppled backwards.

"_It wasn't a quick death, he was just lying there like a ghost"_

'_His 'guest' hadn't changed since the last time they'd met'_

"Yuugi, say something!"

"_His brother went into a mental breakdown as soon as he heard. He didn't even come to the funeral."_

"He's collapsed, I think he's having some sort of attack…"

"_And… good luck for her performance"_

"_You're not going to go?"_

"_I… I don't think I can, Yuugi."_

"I'm calling an ambulance."

"_And then I feel painfully sad for a moment before it goes away, and I'm left just wanting to play sad music for hours."_

"Y-Y-Yuugi, please speak, wake up, do something!"

'_Yami Motou stood up with a cat like stretch and grinned slowly. "It's good to see you too, little brother."'_

"Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance. Now, someone's having some sort of attack- yes, here's the address…"

"_Anzu Mazaki. I'm falling in love with Anzu Mazaki."_

"You're going to be okay, Yuugi, you're going to be okay. Please, just stay with me…"

"_I hate your guts, but… But I love you too much to do that."_

"Don't leave me, don't leave me-"

"_I'm glad you're home."_

"Anzu, the paramedics are here, you have to let go of his hand…"

'_There was no reply, and when Yuugi looked up again Yami was gone'_

"No, I'm not leaving him!"  
_  
'Music was shaken from the piano in single sheets and fell like dry autumn leaves around the pair as they kissed on the ballet studio floor'_

And Yuugi gave himself to a blackness that echoed with the mournful sound of his piano music.

* * *

The doctors at the hospital were very helpful- Mr Motou had just collapsed from stress, they said, he'll be fine in the morning, they said. They even fetched the resident psychiatrist, who listened intently to Anzu's tearful account of the events and reported that subject 'seemed to be displaying a schizophrenic disorder involving hallucinations that had resulted in the complete and utter dismissal of his adored brother's death, presumably stemming from the breakdown that occurred after the death', but concluded that it was impossible to tell until the 'subject' woke up and tests could be run, and that they should all go home and get some rest.

But that didn't happen, because the next morning when Anzu, Mai and Ryou returned, exhausted and worried, to the hospital to see how their friend was doing they were informed by the bemused night nurse that Mr Motou had woken up in the night and had checked himself out when the on-call doctor had mistakenly said he was 'free to go' without reading the psychiatric report.

It was only a few hours later, at nine o'clock on the day of Anzu's performance, that Yuugi Motou's body was found washed up on the river bank- the police immediately wrote it off as a suicide, and a witness confirmed that they had seen the wild eyed, distraught boy leap off a bridge further up the river.

Anzu walked away from the taped off area where the police were covering up his body (it just looked so _small_), ignoring her friend's shouts to come back, turned off her phone to calls coming in from people who had heard it on the news, and returned to the ballet studio where they had first met.

It was still small, still quiet, and the stocky old piano still stood at the back. Anzu leaned against the wall and gazed at the stool where he had sat for so long.

"Will you give up this oppurtunity to dance because of me?" She could have sworn that she heard his voice whisper that in her ear for a split second, before shaking her head. Yuugi was gone… They were both gone.

They were never coming back.

Was she too going to give up her life because of their deaths?

She stared at the piano, tears finally running down her cheeks as she choked out: "No. No I won't."

* * *

Anzu's performance went down like a storm. A standing ovation, roses raining onto the stage, deafening applause drowning out the curtain call music (of course, the substitute accompanist wasn't as good. No one would _ever_ be as good as he was) offers from the New York ballet and the English National Ballet, her teacher weeping with pride in the wings, her friends weeping with a bitter mix of happiness and sadness in the box they had reserved, her future decided just like that.

And as Anzu took her place on stage underneath a single spotlight to dance her encore, she could have sworn she saw the two of them sitting in the front row watching.

Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' began to drift up from the orchestra pit, and with a smile that ached as she wore it, she began to dance.

_One, two, three petit jetés, arms opening to second, relevé in fifth, arms to third arabesque with a devloppe derriere, turn_, _pas de bourée, finish, repeat… _

* * *

Did you like it? ;D Like I said, it was so much fun to write!

Notes: All of the ballet information is correct, I've been dancing for twelve years, so all of the steps are real, and that dance should actually work as a piece! (Choreography career, here I come!) The music pieces mentioned are some of my favourites; I do recommend listening to the Moonlight Sonata, it's very beautiful! Finally, I've actually written about schizophrenia before so everything is accurate. Here's a definition for those of you lucky enough not to have had to know about it:

Schizophrenia: characterised by abnormalities of the perception or expression of reality. Can manifest as hallucinations and paranoid or bizarre delusions. (- wikipedia, pysch-net .com)

Hope you enjoyed that, and thanks for reading! :D

Bookworm


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